Widows

It didn’t take Dolly long to get from the market traders’ underground car park to her start point, about two minutes away from the security firm’s depot in Battersea. She was now parked up in a side street with the engine running. She could see the depot entrance from where she was and, as the heavy iron gates opened, she knew the security wagon would come out, turn right and then right again at the end of the road toward her. The sky was clear, the roads were clear — conditions were perfect. The rush hour traffic was just getting out of bed and London had no idea what was about to happen.

Timing was imperative, as the gap between the security wagon and the car in front of it widened — this was where Dolly’s laundry van had to end up. There could be nothing in between them.

The security wagon was forty yards away, then thirty. At twenty yards, Dolly calmly pulled out into the road. She had timed it perfectly. The security wagon didn’t even have to brake to let her out.

As they traveled along York Road toward Waterloo Bridge roundabout, Dolly realized how important it had been to get the route plan. It would only be a matter of minutes now before they turned left at the roundabout and northward over Waterloo Bridge toward the Strand underpass. Dolly hoped to God the girls had left the lock-up and were in position.

As they headed toward the Strand underpass, Dolly moved out slightly to get a better view in her nearside mirror. Linda was in position, behind the security wagon. Dolly moved back into lane and slowed to twenty miles per hour to allow the vehicles in front to pull away from her. Then she pressed her foot hard down on the accelerator and watched the speedometer.

The laundry van picked up speed quicker than she expected — thirty, thirty-five, forty, as they entered the underpass. Dolly glanced in the wing mirror; the security wagon was right behind her, right on her tail. Dolly pressed the accelerator further; as the speedometer reached fifty, she saw the glimmer of light at the end of the underpass and pulled her balaclava down over her face. She glanced in the wing mirror again and, judging that the gap between her and the security wagon was just right, she slammed on the brakes. The security wagon smashed into the back of the laundry van, the front of the wagon totally crumpling as it was brought to an instant halt. Dolly was thrown forward, but the harness protected her from the full force of the impact.

Grinding the van’s gear into first, she moved sharply forward a few feet and then hard into reverse, slamming the laundry van’s rear bumper into the crippled wagon. Dolly could hear the crunch of metal, the shattering of glass and then the sound of hissing steam coming from the wagon’s radiator. She thanked God for the harness — she’d been jerked about so hard she thought her chest would crack open. Undoing the buckle, she grabbed the gas mask from the gear stick and dived into the back of the van. She stood at the rear door, gas mask on, shotgun hanging by her side from the makeshift belt, sledgehammer in hand. Then she kicked the back doors of the van wide open and threw the sledgehammer right at the center of the security wagon’s windscreen. The reinforced glass didn’t even crack. Dolly swung her shotgun up into position, chest high, and pointed it directly at the two stunned, panic-stricken security guards.

‘DON’T MOVE!’ she screamed. Her voice sounding deep, distorted and frightening.

The security guards lifted their hands above their heads. One shouted to the guard in the back: ‘They’re armed!’

At exactly the same time, Shirley flung open the back doors of their follow van and hurled two smoke canisters at the cars behind them. Instantly, the smoke began to billow and hiss, clouding visibility. She then clambered on top of the security wagon and, removing wire cutters from her pocket, cut the radio aerial.

Grabbing the sawed-off from under the passenger seat, Linda took up position at the rear of the follow van. A man was getting out of his Fiat, but when Linda raised the gun and waved it at him, he quickly got back in and locked the doors, just as another car slammed into the back of him. The second driver put her car into reverse, but it stalled. Linda ran over and smashed the windscreen with the butt of the shotgun. The terrified woman screamed and covered her face, giving Linda plenty of time to grab the ignition keys and throw them away. Then she stepped back to her initial position and stood, legs apart, with the shotgun raised.

Bella leapt from the follow van behind Shirley, ran to the nearside of the security wagon and started up the chainsaw. Hot sparks flew around the side of the van as the saw cut through the metal like butter.

Inside the back of the van, the sound was deafening and the guard trembled in fear as he watched the blade emerge through the metal. He had no idea what was on the other side, no idea what or who was coming through at him, no idea if he was going to live or die.